The Invitation
by Falfa'sGirlRubyRed
Summary: Using the OT and set in the EU (or AU?), newlyweds Han and Leia receive an invitation, but Leia worries how her new husband will react. Will he be upset? Angry? Or will he surprise her? Finally, an update for the real Chapter 4! It's a bit long, but the Solos have been very busy preparing for their trip, & not everyone's happy being fitted for a new wardrobe. What could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, but I sure wish I did! Oh, and I make some references to some very well-known stories as part of an illustration because we are all familiar with it.

 **THE INVITATION**

In retrospect, Han should have known something was up the moment he entered the apartment. To begin with, there were delicious garlicky, tomato-y smells wafting out of the kitchen and he could hear someone singing in sultry, dulcet tones along with a soft, jazzy song playing on the central media-audio unit. Best of all, there was no C-3P0 immediately greeting him with his constant, polite, helpful chatter and annoying mannerisms.

He paused a moment, cocking his head. It wasn't like his wife to be home before him, especially at six o'clock in the evening. Not even on Friday, such as it was. In the three months they'd been married, Han could count on one hand the number of times she'd beat him home. And he could even do so if he were missing three fingers on that hand. As for the wonderful smells from the kitchen, now there was a puzzle; Leia and cooking simply did not go together, kind of like wearing a fur-lined parka on Tatooine. "Lei?" he called out tentatively, his right hand automatically resting lightly on the butt of his blaster.

"In the kitchen," she called back.

He crossed the living room and paused in the doorway to the kitchen to find his beautiful little princess chopping vegetables for a salad, still softly singing with the music, a glass of wine next to her as she worked.

"Hey," she said, looking up at him with a smile, the one that made his heart flutter every time she flashed it. He noticed that her hair was still up and she was still dressed in the slim, gray skirt, silky violet colored blouse, and heels she'd worn to work, so she couldn't have beat him home by that much.

"Hey," he answered, returning her smile and made his way around the counter so he could greet her properly. "You're home early," he growled gently in her ear as he slid his arms around her from behind and began to nuzzle her neck.

Leia leaned back into him, enjoying his loving attention, and continued to tear lettuce. They began to sway a little to the music. "The last meeting of the day was cancelled. The constituents from Belasphere are delayed until next week, so I left early and I thought I'd surprise you with dinner for a change. Surprised?"

Keeping one arm around her, Han reached for her wine glass and took a sip, "I am, yes. You, home early. And dinner . . . and it smells . . . (another sip) . . . good. Really good. What, um, what did you, um, make?" He tried to keep his voice light and casual.

Leia stopped swaying with him momentarily and turned her head against his shoulder to look up at him. The careful, oh-so-innocent expression he wore made her laugh. "Relax, flyboy, I didn't make anything: It's a lasagna from that Sintilian market in the Worlds' Food District by the Senate building. I read the directions - it's fully cooked; I just put it in the oven."

Her attempts at cooking throughout their relationship had been . . . well . . . interesting to say the least, but mostly it was an endless source of amusement for Han, Chewie, and Luke, and it had been a bit of a sore spot for her until the rice incident a few weeks before their wedding. Her past efforts had produced burned but somehow runny pancakes for breakfast one morning. A shriveled, blackened roast for Lovers' Day, complete with exploding tubers in the microwave. But the day the rice had melted and fused into the bottom of a pan was the last straw. She'd thrown the whole thing away in a frustrated fit of temper until Han had cajoled and teased her defeated, angry tears into laughter and kisses . . . and more. They'd sat huddled on the kitchen floor of her apartment, leaning against the dishwasher, her anger at herself spent after he'd talked her down from her tantrum. She had only wanted to cook for Han as he cooked for her, to take care of him and show him how much she loved and appreciated him, she'd lamented. What was so hard about that? Beings did it every day. It was no big deal. Except for her. For her, the kitchen always felt like some sort of high-tech, research laboratory and she didn't know how to read any of the formulas or how to use the equipment. Han had explained to her that her inability to cook was actually very sweet and endearing to him. She'd raised a doubtful eyebrow at him and muttered, "This better be good," but he'd persisted. He'd quirked his lips thoughtfully and finally said, "Honey, you're like Superman." She'd raised both eyebrows at that. "Superman can do anything – he's strong, brave, able to leap tall buildings – you know the rest. You're like that. You can outthink and outsmart any politician or ruler and you don't back down – you're not afraid to play hardball because you're quick-witted and sharp-tongued when you have to be. You're an expert at self-defense and resisting torture. I've seen you wield a light saber and you've shot stormtroopers like metal ducks at a shooting gallery; you handle a blaster like a boss (he'd winked at her so she'd get his double meaning). You've led armies into battle, been part of covert recon missions, you've helped repair the Falcon dozens of times, and on top of all that and more, you're the most beautiful, sexiest, most fair-minded, thoughtful, head-strong woman I've ever met. In other words, you're practically perfect, like Superman. Except for one thing: Superman's weakness is kryptonite. It's just one small thing, one chink in his armor, but that doesn't stop him from being super; it just means he's human, like the rest of us mere mortals. He'd be pretty scary if he didn't have that - how could we ever relate to him? And you," he'd looked down at her affectionately, "you've got your, um, 'challenges' in the cooking department." She'd snorted laughter at his choice of words and he'd joined her, but she'd understood what he meant and it had eased her bruised ego. She remembered slipping onto his lap, straddling him, and saying, "Very smooth, Solo," and much later, they'd ordered takeout. So she'd accepted her limitations in the kitchen, embraced them even as it was a source of humor for them both, and left the cooking to everybody else, and Han in particular.

Now, Han returned her laugh and pulled her closer, resuming their little dance. "Need any help?"

"Mmm. Yes, actually. First, I need you to kiss me hello," she said with sly merriment, turning her head again so he could comply.

His lips twitched a smile before he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her slowly, tasting her tongue with his. Long moments later, when he finally eased his head back, he whispered, "Hi, sweetheart." The room had definitely gotten warmer, he thought.

"Hi," she whispered back almost shyly, a bit dazed and atremble. He always affected her this way – a look, a smile, a touch, a kiss, his voice, and suddenly she turned to jelly. "You have a good day?"

"Pretty good. Better now," he murmured. He'd spent the day with Carlist Rieekan strategizing another contact mission. He still didn't have much use for some of the rest of the former Rebel Alliance leaders, now New Republic leaders, after the Hapan debacle, but he trusted and respected Carlist for all of his help and support of his and Leia's relationship.

"Good. Will you pour me a little more wine?"

"Mmm." Han gave her another slow, deep kiss before moving to the cabinet to fetch his own glass and, while Leia finished with her salad, he poured them both a glass of her favorite red Arborian wine.

"That lasagna is coming out in about a minute," she said as she washed her hands at the sink. "I was hoping you'd make some of your famous cheesy-garlic bread to go with it? I bought all the stuff."

"Sure, sweetheart," he said, beginning to hum along with the music himself. She'd watched him make it many times, but didn't dare trust herself with it.

After removing the lasagna from the oven and setting it on the counter to cool, Han washed his hands, and had Leia cut the loaf of bread as he melted butter on the stove. They sipped wine and talked and teased each other as she assembled the pieces on a baking sheet while he grated two cloves of garlic into the butter along with a tiny splash of olive oil and whisked it together. Leia watched him spoon the mixture onto each bread slice, then top each one with grated parmeyer cheese. "Big finish," he said, popping the sheet into the upper rack in the oven after turning it to broil for four minutes. "Are we eating in here or out there?" he asked, indicating the dining table in the great room of their apartment.

"Why don't we eat out on the terrace? It's such a nice, mild evening," she said, pulling dishes out of the cabinet.

"Pretty romantic evening you have planned," he commented with a smile, refilling their wine glasses. "By the way, where's Goldenrod, anyway? I keep expecting him to barge in here any minute now to interrupt us."

Leia shook her head and began to pluck silverware out of a drawer. "He had to power down to install some new updates. He usually does that during the night, but I suggested he do it now and we'd see him in the morning."

"Why, Princess Leia, I think you're trying to seduce me," Han teased, leaning against the counter, "and I just might let you have your way with me if – "

Leia looked up at his abrupt silence to find him with his hands on his hips, a confused, suspicious frown on his handsome face.

"What?" she asked, her voice only going up a little. A tell-tale blush began to creep onto her cheeks.

"Out with it, Highnessness," he drawled, holding her gaze. "You're home before nightfall, we're having dinner out on the terrace, no Threepio? I get the feeling you're about to tell me they're sending you on a two month political tour to the Outer Rim."

Leia opened her mouth to protest then stopped. "No. It's not like that; it's nothing bad, Han. In fact, it might even be . . . fun?" She bit her lower lip waiting for his reaction.

He lowered his chin and reached for his wine glass. "Fun?" He took a healthy swig and again leaned casually against the counter. "This I gotta hear."

"Um, maybe we should fix our plates and take the bread out of the oven first," she suggested. "It's something I have to show you and it's going to take a few minutes."

Leia could feel his eyes on her as she began to cut large wedges of lasagna.

"Sweetheart, just so you know, my idea of fun is tickets to the smashball finals," he groused, not without amusement. In fact, he rather enjoyed making her squirm a little. As long as she wasn't going off to gods' knew where for an extended period of time, he relaxed a little. The oven timer went off. "Or even better," he continued, removing the hot baking sheet out of the oven, "if you want to model some see-through lingerie for me, I'm up for it. Other than that, I have a bad feeling about this."

Leia finished placing salad on each plate, a little smile playing on her lips as she rolled her eyes at him, catching his skeptical, but playful mood. "Oh, come on, then. The sooner we do this, the better." She grabbed his hand and led him to the couch in the living room.


	2. Chapter 2

Once seated on the couch, Leia faced her husband, took both of his hands in hers and spoke hesitantly, "Han . . . I want you to know that one of the things I love most about you . . . is your sweet, understanding nature . . . your-"

It was Han's turn to roll his eyes at her, a slight smirk on one side of his mouth. "Oh, come on, lady, do I need to put on taller boots? Spill it."

Leia eyed him through her lashes and let out a breath. "Okay. It's, um, that." She nodded her head toward the coffee table in front of the couch. On it lay a small square, black disk, about an inch thick and three inches long. "I want you to know that I had planned this whole romantic evening before I even knew about this. It came to the office right before I left work."

Han looked from her to the disk and back again. "Okay. I believe you. But what is that?"

Leia shrugged. "Watch," she said and reached over to push the top of it.

A lid flipped open and little laser lights emitted from it to form a hologram about the size of a standard holovid screen above the little box at eye-level. Trumpet music began to play and images began to form. Han watched with dawning dread as an accented voice boomed out:

 ** _Greetings from Hapes, fellow sentient-beings!_**

"Oh, no," he groaned as beautiful, but garish images formed in the air before them. The Royal Hapan Palace appeared. White stone with sparkling jeweled colors, complete with turrets, balconies, gargoyles, almost-impossibly gorgeous, scantily-clad ladies and gentlemen in waiting, aquamarine pools surrounded by statuary and columns danced before their eyes as the message continued. Two royal guards dressed in a rainbow of colors appeared, and began to blow their trumpets again to announce the following:

 ** _The Queen Mother, Ta'a Chume, the exquisitely beautiful, fearless, uncontested ruler of the Hapes Consortium of the sixty-three united planets wishes to invite you to the royal wedding of her son and only heir, the six-time winner of the Mr. Hapes contest, named 'Sexiest Man Alive of the Solar System' two years in a row, and recipient of the 'Most Beautiful Hair' and 'Super Smile' awards, the one, the only, the crown prince himself – The Chume 'Da, His Royal Highness, Prince Isolder Tarrandon Grommel Risaldwa of Hapes!_**

A montage of images of Isolder began, accompanied by music Han could only guess came from some kind of cheesy soap opera that must be popular out there. Here came the prince strolling down the palace steps, only to deliver a devastating smile at the bottom. There he was at the beach in a tiny swim briefs, expertly volleying a ball to someone, only to turn to the camera, flip his dirty blond hair, and deliver that same flashy smile. There he was surrounded by scores of beautiful women at some public event, and there was that dazzling, holovid smile as the camera zoomed in. There he was riding a horse toward the camera, white shirt billowing, muscles rippling, and that toothpaste fresh smile. There he was at the bow of a sailing ship, hair whipping in the breeze, sun bouncing off his beautiful face, smile on full blast. And it went on. And on. And on. Photos, snippets of the prince at official events, at news conferences, among the people, in military uniform, in summer shorts, at play, at work, at rest, it went on.

Leia sat silently. She'd watched it once and now she bit her lip to see what Han's reaction would be. Would he be angry, sullen, pissed off? She couldn't very well blame him (*see note at bottom.) Fortunately, she didn't have to wait for long as she became aware of a kind of squeaking sound emitting from her husband, and the couch seemed to be shaking a little, too. "Han?" she said, looking over at him with concern.

Han looked ready to burst, and when Leia finally said his name, he couldn't hold it in any longer. The squeaking gave way to the full-out laughter he'd been trying to suppress. "Mr. Hapes!" he exclaimed when he could talk. "Super Smile award!" Leia stared at him in wonder for a half second before she, too, began to giggle.

The montage continued. There was Isolder emerging from a pool in slow motion, the camera capturing a close up as his golden head burst through the crystal clear water, then he shook his long wet hair, opened his piercing blue eyes, his hands on the stone skirt of the pool, muscles bulging and rippling as he pushed himself up and out of the water, smiling dazzlingly, his body beaded with shimmering droplets. There he was shaking hands with commoners at some outdoor event, smiling away and mugging for the camera when he met an especially fetching young beauty. There he was playing scootball and roughhousing with other manly-men, throwing a smile over his shoulder for the holovid. The longer it went on, the harder the couple laughed every time Isolder flashed his blinding smile. Then the voiceover finally came back.

 ** _Please join the Hapan people in this most joyous celebration as Prince Isolder weds Lady Teneniel D'jo, princess of Dathomir._**

A single image of the young woman flashed by, showing her only with her face half hidden by her hair. "Wah-wah," Han intoned, like the sound that was played when a contestant on a gameshow chose the wrong curtain, causing both him and Leia to crack up again.

 ** _Guests may reside at the palatial estates on palace grounds for this special event and enjoy all the amenities and accommodations our beautiful consortium has to offer! Huzzah!_**

The final image showed Isolder and Teneniel smiling, both wearing matching ornate, bejeweled, pale blue costumes, holding hands and waving to the masses below while the voice informed invited guests of the date and time and how to rsvp.

At this point, Han was laughing so hard, he was incapable of speech again. His face had turned red as he tried to draw breath. Through her own laughter, Leia was afraid he'd pass out, but then she saw him point weakly at the holo. "Ballerina . . . tights . . . he's . . . he's wearing . . . ballerina . . . tights . . ." he managed to gasp, his words coming out choppy and ragged. She only had to glance at the frozen holo to see it was true. Before she could react, Han choked out one more word: "Codpiece!"

Leia suddenly convulsed in silent laughter so hard she was afraid she'd pass out herself. She had no idea how long they writhed on the couch like that, tears pouring down their faces, slapping at the sofa, kicking their feet, and braying like deranged donkeys. Every time one of them tried to say something it would set them both off, until finally Leia was able to catch her breath enough to whimper, "You're going to make me pee my pants," which started them off again.

"Okay, okay," Han finally managed once the hysteria began to wane, wiping his eyes, "okay. We have to stop or we'll end up in the emergency room. Okay." They were both disheveled now, eyes red and watery, faces tear-streaked, clothes rumpled, hair mussed. They looked at each other and began to giggle again.

"Stop," Leia pleaded, feeling laughter bubbling up again. For several long minutes, they both helplessly succumbed again to bouts of laughter so deep it was almost painful. As it waned again, the princess purposely avoided looking at Han, and managed to lurch from the couch to the 'fresher down the hall, stumbling into the wall upon hearing Han's tortured laughter ringing in her ears. Once inside, she sat on her vanity bench, put her head on the counter and tried to get herself under control, but it was so hard, especially when she could hear Han in the other room, and she continued to laugh.

It went on like that for a while. Every time one of them would hear the other start up, it would set them off again until they rode it out and, finally, all was silent.

After washing her face, Leia took her hair down and fashioned a long, loose braid down one shoulder, then she cautiously made her way back to the living room, half afraid as to what condition she'd find Han in, but he wasn't there. She noted the sliding glass door to the terrace was open and the small, wrought iron table out there was mostly set.

"Han?" Her throat was sore and her stomach hurt.

He emerged from the kitchen, carrying plates and silverware. "You okay?" he asked, biting his lip to keep from losing it again. His voice sounded scratchy.

Still avoiding his eyes, she answered, "Yes. My pants are dry, if that's what you're asking."

He faltered for a moment, caught off guard by her remark. "Don't make me start again," he pleaded, letting out a single laugh, "I think I might have seriously ruptured something."

Leia smiled. "Sorry. I haven't laughed like that in years. Maybe never. Felt good."

Han smiled back. "It did." And she knew what he meant, after all they'd been through in the past year.

"I'll get the rest of the stuff from the kitchen and meet you out there," she said softly. As funny as the invitation had been, she needed to know exactly how he really felt about it. And New Republic be damned, if he didn't feel comfortable going to Isolder's and Teneniel's wedding, then they weren't going.

She retrieved candle holders from a kitchen cabinet, a gift for their wedding from Lando, along with candles and a lighter, and went to meet Han out on the terrace for dinner.

*****************************Author's note:

Now, before any of you start rolling your eyes and muttering, 'Oh, no, not _him_ again!' Let me explain-

On a cold, miserable February afternoon earlier this year, I went looking for a book to read and found my dusty copy of The Courtship of Princess Leia. I didn't remember it was actually my second copy until later (I got a third of the way through the first copy before throwing it in the trash in a fit of despair all those many years ago.) I also didn't remember just how upsetting it was ('cuz I skimmed to the end.) I just looked at it and figured, 'All's well that ends well. I think 20 years is long enough and I can finally read it now.'

I was wrong.

All of you H/L lovers know what I mean. I moped. I was depressed. I was angry at the author all over again (I also have a sneaking suspicion he also wrote TFA as well, and as I write this, please know that my eyes are narrowed and I am slowly shaking my head in disgust.)

So, in response to my anxiety, I wrote a series of stories related to the book to explain some things I thought needed explaining. I did not in any way change the events in the book, but I added some 'missing chapters'. I have a very long story set right after Leia comes to her fool senses and declares that Han won the bet, but it's not finished yet, and since it's kind of angsty, I decided to put this one up instead, even though that one comes before this one, of course.

I thought we could all use some nice, old-fashioned H&L romance right about now (I still do not consider the OT and the ST the same franchise – I could go on. Oh, I could go on, but I will stop there and let it go. Yes, my eyes are still narrowed and I'm still shaking my head.)

Anyway, I always wondered if Han and Leia ever went to Isolder's and Teneniel's wedding, and if they did, what happened?

I want to assure all H/L fans that I would never write anything that disrespects or misrepresents our OTP unlike some writers/authors (COPL & TFA – am now shaking my fist in the air too) or causes readers to become upset in any way.

Oh, and if I got any of the details from the book wrong, my apologies. I just can't bring myself to dig it out and research it again.

*If you didn't read COPL, do yourself a favor and don't do it. Also, I didn't go into further explanation at this point because, as mentioned above, I have another story with all that stuff in it and didn't want to rehash it again.

And . . . the next chapter will be sexy, so rated M.


	3. Chapter 3

*********************Author's Note:

I know, I know - FINALLY! My sincere apologies to any and all readers waiting for Chapter 3. I haven't abandoned the story, I just got caught up in my other story, **Leia's Very Bad Day** , which was supposed to just be a two chapter quick story, but then it evolved. From now on, I will stick to one story at a time.

Anyway, I promised sexy-time for Han and Leia and I've made you wait far too long. But here it is! Woo hoo! I hope I made it worth the wait.

Also, if you are following **LVBD** , this story takes place maybe a couple of months earlier, if you're wondering, and I do make some references about this story in that story.

Thank you to all who've read and/or reviewed. I so appreciate it.

Okay, okay - without further ado, - Chapter 3! (Again, sorry for the looooooonnnng wait.)

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As he lit the candles Leia had brought outside on the terrace, Han again appreciated the scant breeze and warmth of Coruscant's summer season; couples could enjoy outdoor candlelit dinners without a sudden gust of wind ruining the ambiance, and, since they were so high above the actual surface of the planet, insects were not a bother either. He blew out the match, gently pushed his wife's chair closer to the little bistro table, and settled into his own on the opposite side.

Tentatively, they began to eat, stealing furtive glances at each other for fear of starting another stomach-aching laugh fest.

"So, this lasagna is really good," Han said between bites.

"Mmm. I think you bought those pizza rolls there a few months ago," Leia replied, reaching for her water glass.

"Ah." They were silent for a while, the only sounds were the clatter of forks on plates and glassware clinking on the metal tabletop as they ate.

Leia picked a second piece of cheesy-garlic bread from the basket and began to pull it apart. Finally, she said, "Nothing beats your cooking, though. Or Chewie's Corellian goulash. When's he due back?"

Han swallowed his mouthful of water and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of ice. Shortly after he and Leia had returned from their month-long honeymoon, he'd let Chewie borrow the Falcon for long overdue visit home to Kashyyyk. "Next weekend. Probably Sunday."

"Ah." Leia mopped up some of the tomato sauce with the crust from her bread. "Hope he had a nice visit home." Han had explained the whole Wookiee lifestyle to her many times, and she'd met and studied many different species of sentient beings with similar behaviors, but still, being away from loved ones for such extened periods of time was hard. Goodness, not even a whole year ago, she'd been apart from Han for five months, the longest they'd ever been separated (except, of course, for when he had been frozen in carbonite.) As a General, he'd been deployed to fight the warlord Zsing, and it had almost been their undoing, driving her to delve deeper into her work so she wouldn't worry about him so much. Then the Hapans had come, and her sense of royal duty, manipulations from the Council, and her guilt over both Alderaan and getting Han into dangerous situations because of his love and devotion to her, had caused such trouble between them. And, despite Han's protests, it was all her fault, really, she knew that.

She sighed heavily into the twilight air, remembering the long, tearful, soul-baring talk they'd had on the Falcon after Han had blown Zsing into oblivion.* The naked honesty they'd shared and the heart-felt words and declarations had made them whole again, and better than ever. But she still hated that she'd ever hurt Han in the first place, even if, as he had insisted, maybe all that had to happen in order for them to get to where they were now – closer and stronger for it. Her musings were interrupted by the noise of a throat clearing across the table.

Han was watching her intently over the candles, a soft, knowing, lop-sided smirk playing on his lips. "So, are we gonna make more small talk, or do you want to discuss that invitation now?" He took a bite of salad, chewing slowly, eyes still on her.

Leia blushed. "Look," she began, "I'm not going to try to talk you into going. Whatever you want is what I want. Mon will just have to deal with it."

"I think we should go." Han sat back and folded his arms across his chest, pleased with Leia's look of surprise.

She put down her fork and studied him, feeling no upsetting vibes in the Force surrounding her husband. "But, after that whole mess–"

"No," he stopped her, shaking his head for emphasis, and leaned forward again, "we don't have to rehash that, sweetheart." He reached for her hand across the table and offered her a tender look. "They came to our wedding, but that's not why I want us to go." He thought for a moment, then continued, "And I certainly don't care if it pleases Mon or Horm or the provincial council."

Leia squeezed his hand. "Then, it's to please me? Because you think I want us to be there?" He was always sacrificing for her and she wasn't going to have it this time, if that's what he was thinking.

"No. I mean, yes, I'd go if you wanted me to. But that's not why." Han looked down, trying to find the right words. "Look, I know I like to tease you about Prince Fabio . . . because he's just . . . so obvious and cheesy. I mean, come on. Look at that invitation! I couldn't have made that up in my wildest dreams! 'Sexiest Man Alive?' Seriously? What is that? Who wins something like that? Is that even a thing?"

Leia tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't resist saying, "Honey, in his defense, I'd like to remind you that he also received the 'Most Beautiful Hair' award _and_ is the six time winner of the 'Mr. Hapes' contest, too."

They broke out into more helpless laughter for several long, giddy minutes. Han had to turn away from her to get himself under control, and Leia pressed her napkin to her mouth to keep herself in check. Finally, the moment passed, eyes were wiped, sips of water were taken, and once again the Solos were able to resume their conversation.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Leia said, still dabbing at her eyes. "You were saying something about how you like to tease me about this?"

"Yeah, well, I couldn't do that if you'd ever had feelings for him, see? So, since I can, I just do it now to provoke you, to push your buttons - I do love to push your buttons. But I never meant it to hurt you. You know that," he took a sip of wine before continuing on a more serious note. "We're in a good place now, but I also know it's still a bit of a sore point between us and I hate that. I hate that even after our long talk, even though nothing happened between you and him, you still feel bad about this and I hate that I make you feel that way. I can be a Bantha brain sometimes."

"You? No!" she gasped in feigned shock, causing him to chuckle again.

"What I'm tryin' to say, is that maybe going to Hapes is really just for us, you know? Maybe I want to show you off, show them my beautiful wife. Maybe it's a chance for you to show me a little bit what life on Alderaan was like. And maybe it's my way of showing you that, even though I like to rile you up occasionally – and let's face it, I'm gonna do it again - I'm really at peace with it, and you don't have to feel bad about it anymore. You don't have to keep proving your love for me or apologizing. Does that make sense?" He searched her face for an answer.

Now Leia stared at her husband in wonder. Out of all the things he could have said, all the reasons he could have cited, he again reminded her of just how well he knew her and just how much he loved her. "For a scoundrel, you always know just what to say," she said finally, smiling at him with her own admiration. He really did have a way with people, her in particular. "And for the record, I get to show you off, too. You're _my_ 'Sexiest Man Alive.'"

"I knew it. I knew you'd admit it sooner or later," he jested, picking up his fork again. "But just so we're clear, I'm not wearing anything weird like that ballet outfit. That's not happening."

"Oh, I don't know." Leia scraped the rest of her lasagna onto her fork. "I think you can pull it off. You certainly have the most magnificent rear-end for it. Front's pretty excellent, too."

"You're not going to sweet-talk me, your worship. Don't even try it," he countered, pointing a piece of garlic bread at her for emphasis. "Han Solo does not wear tights or bedazzled blouses. Not anymore. My days as a magician's assistant ended long ago."

Leia snickered around a bite of salad. He'd told her about that years ago. "I'd give anything to have seen that."

"Oh, yeah?" Han raised a playful eyebrow. "It went something like this." He turned his head away, as if looking over a shoulder, then dramatically whipped around, his hair flying about, and delivered a devilish, flashy imitation of Prince Isolder's Super Smile.

Once again, they began to crack up . . .

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Later, after they'd cleared the table, the couple slipped back onto the terrace. They were both a little full from dinner, and a bit spent from all the laughing, and now they just wanted to relax for a while and enjoy the night air and view.

Han sat on the edge of one of their chaise lounges and removed his boots and socks, flexing his toes. Leia held his shoulder and slipped off her shoes. Then they both settled into the chair together, snuggling tightly against each other, Leia tucked under his shoulder, resting in the crook of his arm, head on his chest.

They lay quietly with their arms around each other, listening to the sounds of the city and the various air traffic going by. Eventually, Leia's gaze wandered high up to the dark sky full of stars. She smiled against Han's shirt. Out there somewhere was a small moon called Endor. Absently, her fingers played with the buttons on his shirt.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, looking down at her, amused at her wistful expression.

"The first time we made love." Her fingers undid a few buttons and slipped inside to rub his chest.

"Mmmm," he murmured, a soft smile playing on his face. "You were so shy. You were shaking. You could barely look at me."

"I'd never done it before - it was my first time ever, you know that (she knew he loved to hear her say that.) I was nervous. And excited." She tore her gaze away from the stars to look at him. They smiled into each other's eyes.

It was the second night after the Rebels' victory and everybody'd still been celebrating. Chewie and Lando had gotten Luke pretty plastered, but the two of them had managed to slip away mostly unnoticed. "You didn't want to do it for the first time in that little Ewok hut of yours and we had to dodge all those drunken fools on the walkways and make our way down to the Falcon. Must've taken us over a half hour or more to get to the ground." Han's voice was soft and deep and she both heard it in her ears and felt it with her cheek on his chest.

Leia moved her hand to stroke his chin. "I wanted it to happen on the Falcon. I couldn't imagine it anywhere else. Not that time."

"It was pretty incredible," he muttered, shifting his body on the lounge so that they were now on their sides, face to face.

"It always is," she muttered back, nudging her nose against his, then seeking his mouth with her own. They kissed slowly, taking time to explore the velvety texture of each other's tongues, to enjoy the physical sensation of their lips moving together.

"Mmm," Leia groaned softly against Han's mouth as their hands began to roam and caress one another. After a while, the kiss deepened and became more intense and their curious hands became bolder, stirring their passion and making them want more.

Finally, Han broke the kiss and grinned softly at her. "Come on, love," he murmured, extracting himself from the chaise, and holding out his hand to her. It wasn't as if they'd never made love out on the terrace – they had, but Leia had been worried, afraid they'd be caught by passing traffic or the prying eyes of the papaholorazzi, so it had been under the cover of dark night and blankets. Incredibly satisfying and naughty, to be sure, but rather quick and silly, too. And tonight, Han knew, neither of them was in any hurry to rush anything. They had all evening and all night to enjoy each other, over and over again.

Leia took his hand and he led her back inside their apartment. While Han excused himself to use the bathroom, she was quick to set everything up, and by the time he returned to the living room a few minutes later, he stood in the hallway at the opening of the living room, speechless for a few seconds, a slow smile lighting his face.

The soft, jazzy music was back on, the lights were off, and Leia lay naked on the floor atop a throw blanket in front of the lit fireplace. She was on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, facing away from him, her bare back, bottom and legs on full display as the firelight played over her smooth skin. Her hair was long and loose, freed from the braid and swept to the side, and, now, she peeked back over her shoulder at him.

"Holy hells, Leia," he breathed, beginning to move slowly towards her, "you don't play fair." She was a goddess presenting herself before him, chiseled of the finest material, a feast for his ravenous eyes and yearning body.

She smiled coquettishly at him. "You're a little overdressed, Flyboy," she teased, her voice soft and low, and her body positively tingling in anticipation of him.

Han crossed to the sofa where her clothes were heaped, and began to undress for her, never taking his eyes off her. He watched her as he removed his shirt, watched her eyes take him in as he slipped his pants off and he threw his clothes on top of hers. He stood in the light of the fireplace, his own naked body revealed to her. He watched as her gaze traveled leisurely from his feet up to his eyes and they shared a knowing smile.

"Come and play," she whispered, beckoning him to her. He needed no other coaxing and stepped over to her, kneeling beside her. Her smile deepened, and she moved a hand through her hair to keep it over her shoulder, letting him know the next move was up to him.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he wondered, trying decide where to start. Every inch of her bare skin excited him.

"I do, I really do," she chuckled, folding her arms in front of her, resting her chin on them, and lying flat, waiting for him to begin.

Han laughed, recognizing his own words, and repositioned himself down by her legs. He picked one foot up and kissed the sole, being careful, as she was extremely ticklish on the bottoms of her feet. One by one, he suckled her toes as she giggled. He put the one foot down and picked up the other, taking in one toe at a time, nuzzling and rubbing her feet as she wriggled them in his hands. He worked his way up her body slowly, kissing and stroking his way from her feet to her calves, marveling at the taut muscles and smooth flesh. The backs of her knees were sensitive, and here, she squirmed a bit, feeling his tongue probe the soft flesh. Han sat up, and, settled on one side of her, he placed a hand on each of the backs of her thighs and stroked up and down, lightly at first, then a little harder, varying his touch, noting the way her body tensed and what kind of sound she uttered, whether it be a giggle or a moan or a sigh.

His hands reached higher now, and cupped her perfect, heart-shaped rear-end. He paused here, regarding her porcelain smooth buttocks. How easy and pleasurable it would be for them both if he were to settle himself behind her, push her legs apart with his knees and take her now. He was certainly physically ready, but he wasn't done touching her yet, and besides, he was enjoying the excruciating anticipation far too much. He knew Leia was too. His hands began to move again, kneading the fleshy cheeks, eliciting a groan of "Oh, Han . . ." from the princess. Han leaned down, not being able to resist, and placed kisses on the creamy, impeccable skin of her small rump, making her giggle again. He giggled with her, rubbing his scratchy cheek against her tender skin, nipping her with love bites, poking his tongue in the dimples at the top of her behind.

Now Han scooched up to sit by her hip. He stroked her back, feeling the small bones of her ribs and shoulder blades, the tiny knobs of her vertebrae, the muscles and soft flesh. She wasn't scrawny or fragile, but he and Luke and Chewie were always trying to get her to eat more, and he was pretty sure the stress of her job and the stress she put on herself burned off any excess calories or weight she might have acquired. Up and down her back, his hands went, kneading and massaging her shoulders, then down to the small of her back, feeling her relax under his ministrations. Knowing that she wanted his touch, that she trusted him with herself, with her very body, wasn't something he took lightly; it filled him with a deep sense of pride and tenderness.

He placed a line of kisses from the base of her spine all the way up to the nape of her neck, where he nuzzled her playfully, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

Finally, she turned her head, eyes shining, and grinned softly at him. "Hey, baby."

"Hey," he answered, and kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue.

Leia rolled on her side and he settled next to her, facing her. "That was nice," she murmured, curling one arm under her head, and sliding her other hand up and down chest, swirling her fingers in the dusting of hair, which she found particularly attractive and manly. She remembered the white shirt he'd worn when she'd first met him on the Death Star, how his chest hair had peeked through the deep slash of this neckline and how angry she'd been at herself for noticing (and liking it.) How many nights, when she'd been on the run with the Rebel Forces, had she thought about that shirt and that little dusting of hair and how she'd wanted to run her fingers through it?

"You liked it?" he smiled into her eyes, resting his hand on her hip, enjoying the feel of her hands on him.

"Loved it," she breathed. "Love you." Her hand found his face and she pulled him close for another long, searching kiss which quickly turned eager and intense. She pushed up on her shoulder, nudging him onto his back, still kissing him. At long last, Leia brought her head up and gazed down at him adoringly. She stroked some hair off his forehead, and drew a finger down his nose, then to his lips, where he kissed said finger, catching it playfully between his teeth before releasing it. She smiled and stroked his chin again, tracing his scar. Oh, how it drove her wild. She knew all of his scars by heart, and each one was a story, an adventure, adding to the mystery and legend that was Han Solo, and each had, in it's own way, led him to her. _My Han Solo_ , she thought. Leia brought her face back down to his and flicked out her tongue, outlining first his lips, then that perfect scar. She placed a row of kisses and nips down his throat and ran her hands through his chest hair again, finding his nipples and making him groan as they stiffened between her fingers. Chuckling, she lowered her mouth over one and played gently with it, knowing how sensitive he was (she knew hers certainly were when he touched them.) Her hands stroked lower, feeling his stomach muscles, and circling his belly button.

Han sucked in his breath when her tiny hands found him, encircling his hardness, stroking the length of him. He bit his lips and closed his eyes as she touched the most tender parts of him, handling them with the utmost care. "Oh, sweetheart," he groaned, aching. He felt like a rocket, ready to go off at any moment.

Leia removed her hand and placed one on either side of his head and looked down into his eyes. She wanted him, needed him right now, with an undeniable, aching urgency of her own. Carefully, she straddled him, and leaned forward. Han reached between them, positioning himself, and she shifted back, feeling him slide into her. As she sat back on her knees, he pushed deeper inside.

Leia closed her eyes, relishing the sensation of him filling her up. "Oh, oh, honey," she groaned, rocking back and forth slowly, finding her rhythm, her hands on his chest for support.

Han watched her as she moved on top of him, taking him in, her hair swinging behind her, tickling his thighs. He'd learned early on in their physical relationship, that when Leia was on top, he had to let her position herself and take control, otherwise, due to their height difference (him being so much bigger than she), it could be painful for her. It was the most pleasant torture for him to try not to move so much, and he did love the view. Her breasts swayed and jiggled above him, and he reached for them, sliding his work-roughened hands up her ribcage, to capture them. He rubbed and squeezed them, thumbing her nipples, and causing her to groan louder and rock harder against him.

"Scoundrel," she breathed, with a short laugh, looking down at his lustful, wondrous expression. She thought he'd been close, but Han was an amazing lover (okay, her only lover, lucky girl) and his experience allowed him to prolong this, to stave off climax so that she could enjoy her ride as long as possible, letting her get closer before he made some moves to hasten her pleasure and bring them both to satisfaction.

He stroked circles around her undulating hips, smiling lazily up at his beautiful wife, and tried to concentrate on the jazzy music wafting around the room, instead of the intensifying sensations in his groin. Long, sweet moments passed, each enjoying the steady in and out measure of their cadence, causing grunts and groans to escape their lips.

Finally, Leia's pace began to quicken, and he felt her tighten her pelvis ever so slightly around him. "Kriff," he muttered, almost deliriously, then he reached one hand behind her, clenching one buttock and grinding her a little harder against him. He put his other hand between them, searching, probing her with his thumb, and finding just the right spot. Moaning, Leia tossed her head back.

"Mmm, uhh, oh, gods! Han!" she cried out as she crested the first wave of her climax, the pleasure so intense that nothing else existed and she continued to moan as rode out the rest of the waves.

Underneath her, Han was unable to hold back, and he thrust his hips up involuntarily, tensing his buttocks, as he came with her. He called out her name as his own pleasure threatened to break him apart in the most incredible way. His body felt electric with bliss.

Leia collapsed against his chest, sated and woozy, her sweat mingling with his. They both gulped air, hearts racing, and they lay like that for a short while, spent and satisfied, with Leia's long hair forming a curtain around them.

Finally, she lifted her head, swept her hair back again, and kissed his lips. "I love you, Solo."

"I know, baby. I love you, too. I just don't think I can move," he said, his lips twitching at the corner.

Leia laughed and sat up on him again. "I wore you out, did I? Well, I'll let you rest for a bit, but we are not done here tonight, just so you know. I've been thinking about this all day, and I mean to have my way with you all evening, just like you promised."

"Fine!" he frowned in mock resignation, curling one arm behind his head. "Take me. Use my body. I'll do my husbandly duty all night long if you want, but first, I could use a little dessert. What'd you get?."

Leia grinned and shook her head. "It's a surprise. I'll be right back."

When she returned a few minutes later with two spoons and a carton of caramel chocolate chunk ice cream, which she'd softened in the microwave for a few seconds, she found Han arranging a nest of blankets and pillows he'd gotten from the hall closet, on the floor in front of the couch, so they could enjoy a little carpet picnic and sit in front of the fire. He patted the spot next to him and leered at her. "Sit next to me, pretty lady."

She pretended to eye him suspiciously, then settled next to him and pried the lid off the ice cream. "Couldn't move, huh?" she teased.

He put an arm around her and gathered her closer. "I'm Corellian. I recover quickly."

"Good to know," she quipped, digging into the carton.

"Hey, where's that invitation, anyway?" Han asked, pointing his spoon at the empty coffee table in front of them.

"I put it up on the shelf by the holovision. I was afraid you'd want to watch it again," she admitted, unearthing a vein of caramel. "I don't think I can handle that again tonight."

Han swallowed his mouthful of ice cream. "Oh, we're watching it again, maybe not tonight, but tomorrow for sure. In fact, I'm keeping it."

Leia nearly choked on the sweet caramel. "You want to keep it? Why?"

He considered. "Leia, I've been around the galaxy, and I've seen a lot of stuff in my lifetime, but I've never seen anything as funny as that."

Images of Isolder on horseback and that slow-motion pool sequence popped into Leia's mind, making her snort sudden laughter around her spoon.

Han grinned, "Told ya."

When they finished their ice cream, Han pushed Leia gently back on the mound of pillows, raised a devilish eyebrow, and leaned over her.

"Recovered already?" she asked, raising her own eyebrow.

"You're not the only one who's been thinking about this all day, princess," he growled, eyes raking over her naked body again. Quirking his lips, Han reached for the ice cream carton and dipped a finger in.

First he dabbed her mouth with chocolate and kissed it off. Then, he stroked a finger down her throat and between her breasts, slowly licking at the line of melted ice cream. Leia giggled and squirmed as he drew circles around her breasts and painted her nipples with it. His mouth was warm and eager, sucking and nipping the hardened buds, making her catch her breath and moan with desire. Their first bout of lovemaking had been about anticipation and stirring their passion for each other, but this time she didn't want to wait, couldn't wait. "Now, please," she pleaded, opening her legs for him.

She didn't have to ask twice: Han dropped on top of her, claiming her mouth with searing kisses, and sank smoothly into her.

She gasped as he worked his hips, thrusting with hard, diligent strokes. Leia caught his rhythm and moved with him, each thrust, each parry bringing her quickly to the edge of heaven.

Usually, Han loved to watch the various expressions on her face, loved to see how he made her feel, but here, now, his need was as urgent as hers. "Come on, sweetheart," he panted, urging her forward.

His voice in her ear pushed her over. This time was slower and deeper, a slow explosion radiating from her center outward. "Mmmmm," she sighed happily, letting it wash over her several times.

Han wasn't quite there, but Leia was content to lay beneath him and relish the feel of his body flexing against hers, to feel him pushing inside her, so hard and frantic. She let him enjoy himself and watched his handsome face contort as she slid her hands up and down his back, resting them on his lunging buttocks. Squeezing, kneading his adorable rump, she whispered to him, "Are you ready? Come, my love." A few more thrusts, and he stopped deep inside her, releasing in a starburst of ecstasy that seemed to flow through his whole body. "Kriff, Leia!" he cried out. Breathing hard, he laughed softly and pressed his forehead to hers as she continued to stroke his back.

And the night was still young . . .

They decided to stay camped out on the floor in the living room. Not that there was anything wrong with their bedroom, but there was something delightfully romantic about having a sleepover in front of the fire; they were newlyweds afterall, and desperately in love. And as such, the two of them had each other several more times throughout the rest of the evening, taking breaks to cuddle and talk, watch old holos, and have a midnight snack of reheated cheesy bread and olives.

During the night, they kept waking each other up to make love again, and around five-thirty in the morning, Han had Leia bent over the coffee table for another go-round. She found herself with her face and breasts pressed against the smooth, glossy wood, holding onto the edge with both hands. He kneeled behind her, gripping her by the hips and they were going at it pretty hard, making a terrific racket, and just as she felt her orgasm beginning to blossom and she'd begun to cry out louder, they heard the unmistakable, soft mechanical whirring of C-3P0's gait as he made his way down the hall and toward the livingroom, but it was too late to stop: Leia was already peaking, and Han was at the point of no return.

"Oh, dear, the fireplace is still lit," the droid complained softly, "and what are those dreadful sounds? I do hope Mistress Leia and Captain Solo have not caught ill, it would be most - "

Through her spasming pleasure, Leia looked up in time to see Threepio freeze as he rounded the corner, his sensors taking in the scene and processing it so he could react appropriately. "Oh, my!" he shrieked as only he could, threw up his metal arms and turned around to toddle as fast as he could back down the hallway to the utility closet where he powered down for the night.

She began to giggle helplessly, and Han's rhythm faltered as he simultaneously burst out laughing and came to his own, blissful finish.

Han collapsed back onto the blankets and after a moment, Leia pushed herself off the table to join him.

"I feel like we just got caught by my parents," Leia finally said.

"He didn't run that fast when we were trying to escape from Hoth," Han said, his laughter trailing off.

Leia smiled at him and shook her head. "I'll go fix this or he'll stay in there all day," she sighed, getting up and wrapping one of the throws around her. Just as Han opened his mouth to retort, she said, "Don't say it," as she made her way down the hall to the utility closet.

She'd been too busy to keep track of the time and had forgotten Threepio was set to power up early. His routine was to wander around the apartment, tidy up, set up the kaffe machine, take inventory of their refrigerator, regulate the apartment's temperature, review their schedules, check the weather reports, prepare their breakfasts, and so forth. It wasn't the first time Threepio had caught them in a compromising position, but never when they were full-on naked and so blatently right in the middle of the actual act. Fortunately, Leia knew just what to do.

"Threepio?" she called, knocking on the closet door before opening it.

"Oh! Mistress Leia," the droid exclaimed, cocking his head and taking a nervous step back toward the vacuum cleaner. "I was going to prepare for the day, and didn't realize you and Captain Solo had . . . planned to spend the evening in the living room. Please forgive me for the intrusion. I will restart at a more convenient time if you wish-"

"No, Threepio, wait! Slow down," she interrupted. He cocked his head again and Leia could swear he was trying to avoid looking directly at her. "I want you to erase your memory banks from when you woke up this morning, and reboot. And please power down until 10 am. Han and I want to sleep in. Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, yes, Mistress Leia! Thank you!" he trilled gratefully with obvious relief. "I'll shut down immediately." And he did, almost, Leia thought, before he finished his sentence.

She padded back to the living room. Han was stretched out on the couch under a blanket, waiting for her. She switched off the fireplace, then went to curl up next to him. He put an arm around her, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Goldenrod okay?" he asked drowsily, his voice muffled by her hair.

"Mmm. Fine," she muttered back, yawning, adjusting his arm around her.

"Good. Love you, sweetheart." His head sank further against the pillow and he closed his eyes.

"Love you, too. 'Night . . ." The couch was as soft as fluffy clouds. Leia yawned again, snuggling a little deeper against Han.

A minute later they both fell soundly asleep just as the first rays of dawn began to pinken the Coruscant sky.

*************************Another Author's Note:

*As I mentioned at the end of Chapter 2, I have a kind of long story that takes place before this - the missing chapters from The Courtship of Princess Leia. Lots of good, angsty stuff. I did not change any events of that upsetting book (seriously, do not read it); I just filled in how these two healed their relationship and explained Leia's uncharacteristic behavior in a palatable, acceptable way in which the real (fictional) Leia would act and think. And I threw in a bunch of fun stuff and a wedding and sexy stuff, too. I will publish it, but that's gonna be a while.

Oh, and I promise to update this story soon-ish. Got lots of ideas about what Isolder and Teneniel's wedding would look like :) That invitation was just the beginning.

Thanks for reading. xoxoxo


	4. Chapter 4

******************Author's Note**********************

I'm ba-a-a-ck! Whew, it's been a loooooooong time. I had some minor, reconstructive surgeries last summer and wanted to write while I was convalescing, but since I was off work, I decided to get out for some day trips while I could. I started this chapter in September when I updated Leia's Very Bad Day, and then the holidays rolled around. I deleted my temporary Chapter 4 (my tribute to CF) and here we are, finally! For reals!

Anyway, this is a really long chapter - like 3 chapters worth of story - because the Solos have a lot to do before they leave for their trip. Take your time, sit back, grab a cup of coffee (not sure if I'd put it on the coffee table, wink, wink) and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading, and if you want, reviewing! Love - FalfasGirl X0X0X0X (Oh, and if I've gotten any details wrong about any character or situation, let me know so I can change it. And does anyone know Carlist Rieekan's late wife's name? I couldn't find it. thx)

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The weeks before their departure to Hapes were extremely busy ones for the Solos.

To begin with, the constituents from Belasphere had rescheduled their visit to Coruscant and, as ambassador and councilwoman, Leia and her staff were immersed in rearranging various social gatherings, both formal and informal, as well as holding meetings – some last minute and some late at night - for fine-tuning the terms and contracts for the Belaspherian representatives when they arrived to negotiate their membership into the New Republic. She was also keeping abreast of the residual skirmishes in the Roche system, and various other minor emergencies as well as possible new member prospects. And Han had committed himself to no less than three contact missions for Carlist which took him off-world for the better part of a week each time, sometimes longer if necessary. When he returned, he and Chewie were occupied with their side business of finding, buying, and selling parts for vintage ships. It was something he absolutely loved doing, but this venture also took him off-planet for jaunts both long and short, so he not only tried to coordinate those trips as far between missions as possible, but also with Leia's diplomatic schedule so they'd be gone at the same time and home at the same time. Well, at least as much as was possible, that is.

Around their hectic workloads, the newlyweds spent as much time as they could together: When he was home, Han took Leia out to breakfast in the mornings before dropping her off at the Senate building for another long day, and if she was tied up with a late night at work, they'd arrange to have take-out for dinner in her office together. Also, Leia made sure to block her 'com from all calls when they were home alone, especially if it happened to be the weekend, much to Han's delight and the irritation of some of her colleagues (Mon's and Horm in particular.) Fortunately, they both thrived on erratic hours and crazy schedules; they loved their work and respected each other's job commitments, but most of all, they loved each other, so, all in all, they were very happy with the arrangements of their married and work lives, thank you very much.

In addition to all that, they had also been informed that their apartment building was undergoing renovations and all the occupants would be relocated to the other side of the building in studio units until the work was complete. As long as they had their stuff packed, it would be moved for them while they were gone, which meant that between Leia's already over-packed schedule, and Han's frequent absences and projects, the couple had to squeeze in time with Threepio to organize and pack for the move. Leia even enlisted her trusted assistant, Marva, to help with the packing one Han-less weekend, treating her to double-time pay, a certificate to a day spa, and a lovely early dinner at a popular Parilian restaurant near the Capitol Building. Leia couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed some girl-talk and inane office gossip with another female. _Probably before the war when I was a senator_ , she mused around a bite of slow-roasted rosemari porchan as Marva speculated about the supply closet thief and a list of possible suspects. She was especially suspicious of Mon's personal secretary, that persnickety Mr. Wyler who wore a bowtie every day and had a habit of looking down his long thin nose at the rest of the assistants and affected a slight accent from the Brixon region of Coruscant when everyone knew he was from Tarlings in the southern hemisphere.

As Marva changed the subject to her favorite program, **Dancing with the Holostars** , Leia smiled and nodded, savoring bites of the porchan and crisp green legumes, enjoying the company of her friend, for Marva was more than just her assistant. As a princess on Alderaan, she had never had close girlfriends at the private all-girls schools she'd attended when she was a child, but when she'd been elected to the Galactic Senate, she did remember meeting with several female senators from other worlds after work, just to chat and get to know each other. She'd been young, the youngest among them at seventeen, but they had treated her as an equal, talked about personal, womanly issues, their relationships, and shoes. _Gods, I miss talking about shoes,_ she thought, taking another delicious bite of the buttery, roasted tubers and remembering how, as that young senator, men, invariably, sometimes fellow politicians, would stop by their table and hit on them, Leia included, who, while she was legally an adult, was still not even allowed alcohol on some planets. Some were just looking for fun and some for political favors, but no matter who they were or how handsome or powerful they might have been, Leia had never responded in kind; not only had she been intently focused on both her job as Senator for Alderaan and her covert involvement with the Rebellion, she simply wasn't interested in the kind of men who used others to climb social and political ladders. She wasn't even interested in real romance, for that matter – there was simply too much to do and she didn't have time to imagine something like that would really happen to her anyway, not like the holovids or novels of her childhood had described. She'd watched as her silly, wonderful, outrageous aunts had been courted by both celebrities and diplomats time and time again, loving the attention, the fan-fare, the holorazzi, but never really falling in love (at least not for long.) But Leia's parents had married for love and had disapproved of such obvious, slimy tactics. They (her father, really, as her mother had died when she was so young) had raised her to respect herself and others, to be loyal and steadfast, and to be true in her character. They loved her and had wanted a real life and happiness for her and would have never approved of her selling herself for something less by partaking in that type of diplomacy, even if it were advantageous and served the greater good. True, Bail had involved her in the Rebellion, prepared her with the best education and tutors, had her train for physical and psychological combat, but fighting for a noble cause was one thing, even sacrificing your life was another, and being used as a bartering chip for political advantage was entirely different. Even if she and Han had never met, she never thought she'd have allowed herself to be a part of such an impersonal, calculated game of political chess with that kind of man and the prospect of a sham marriage. _Isolder and his proposal_ , she thought sullenly as Marva began a story about her late husband, Jorte. _But that time I played along because I needed the Hapans help and resources._

She kept one ear focused on Marva as she sipped her kaffe and reflected. It tasted as bitter as her feelings towards herself regarding that matter. She and Han had talked about it months ago on Dathomir as he lay in his bunk, recovering from his injuries which Luke and the witches had been working on that morning. She'd confessed that he'd been right about Isolder's intentions, as well as her own motivations concerning that damned proposal. But she hadn't wanted to see it, and after the assassination attempt, she had wanted to believe Isolder's spoken feelings toward her were genuine, so she'd agreed to visit Hapes to see if she could return those supposed feelings, because if she had to play what her father called 'dirty politics' and sacrifice herself body and soul, and give up Han, the love of her life, then she'd wanted it to count for something more than simply doing her royal duty in a never-ending battle for control of the galactic government. It had taken Han almost losing his very life, for her to finally admit what she'd tried to bury deep down – that she'd reacted out of necessity and fear, for there was so much at stake, and she hadn't been able to see another path she could take. Of course, Han had known. He'd wrapped her in his arms and murmured that he couldn't let her go off to Hapes knowing the truth and waiting for her to realize it. _I put him through so much_. _"_ You don't have to feel bad about it anymore," Han had said just a few of weeks ago, but she was still working on it.

"How long were you and Jorte married?" Leia asked the older woman, taking another sip of kaffe as they awaited dessert – something called Reves de Chocolat.

"Thirty-seven years," Marva replied with a small sad smile over her tea cup. "He's been gone six years last month. I miss him every day."

Leia returned the sad little smile. "You must've had a wonderful life together."

The woman nodded her head full of champagne colored curls. "We did. Having children never happened for us, but we never regretted it, you know? We never sat around, desperate and grieving about it. It just wasn't for us. We made our own little family, just us two, and we shared a wonderful lifetime together. We had each other and it was everything." She dabbed at the corner of one eye.

"Oh, I'm – I'm sorry," Leia stammered. "I didn't mean to make you cry." She reached over and touched Marva's hand in sympathy, her own eyes misting over with understanding, for she loved Han the way Marva loved Jorte.

"No, dear, I'm not sad. I mean, I miss him, of course. It was a good, long life we had together. So many people never get that. I wouldn't change it for anything," Marva assured her, patting her hand. "These tears are full of happy memories, that's all. I'm sure you understand now that you're married to the man you love."

Their dessert came just then: two huge bowls of layered chocolate mousse, brownie bits, and mocha ice cream topped with caramel sauce and whipped cream.

"I am and I do understand," Leia smiled softly, taking up a spoon. Marva Fostaine had started working for her a few months before Han had gone to fight Zsinj and had promptly fallen in love with both of them, giggling and blushing at Han's flirting (the man simply could not help himself), doting on Leia and plying her with homemade treats, shooing her to leave at a decent hour and go see that handsome man of hers. And she was fiercely protective of them, too; Marva had been witness to the whole Hapan mess, had openly sneered and huffed at both Horm and Mon, and had not hesitated to cluck disapprovingly at Isolder the two times he'd met with Leia at her office to discuss negotiations (making sure to leave Leia's door open and coming in every five minutes with messages, inquiries, and tea.) And a few days later, when Leia had announced her intention of visiting Hapes the morning after the assassination attempt, Marva had been short with her, had set her mouth in a grimace, and right before Leia'd gone to meet Han on **Home One** , Marva'd told her that she hoped Leia was making the right decision for herself, after all, love was a rare and beautiful gift and it didn't just happen every day. Now, looking across the table at her, Leia remembered feeling ashamed but determined to do the right thing (at least she thought so at the time) and thinking that Marva just didn't understand her predicament. But she loved her for those words. Like Han, she'd known the truth, even if Leia couldn't admit it to herself, couldn't see any other path, and she'd cared enough to say something. Leia was sure she would have said more before her departure to Hapes, but then Han had taken her to Dathomir and the rest was history. When they had returned and everything was settled, Marva had flung her arms around both her and Han and had burst into tears, for she loved both of them as her own. And Leia treasured her.

"And I'm glad you're coming with us on the trip to Hapes next month," Leia managed to say around a mouthful of pure heaven.

"Oh, me too!" Marva exclaimed as Reves de Chocolat quivered on her spoon. " _This_ time, that is." She narrowed her eyes and pointed her spoon at Leia. "As long as that shady Prince Frost-and-Tip is marrying somebody else, I'm in!" she giggled, then, "Was he really named 'Sexiest Man Alive of the Solar System'?"

Leia sputtered laughter into her napkin and bit on the edge to keep herself from hee-hawing in the middle of the crowded restaurant.

****************123

As it turned out, Han and Leia weren't the only ones invited to the Royal Wedding. The Hapan Council of Royal Affairs had also extended invitations to Luke, Chewbacca, Mon Mothma, Threkin Horm, Carlist Rieekan, and other officials. Including spouses, significant others, and assistants (such as Marva and Mr. Wyler), the group numbered roughly forty, and because of that, they were now considered an official delegation representing the New Republic.

And while Han was not terribly thrilled with being part of an entourage that included Horm and Mon (he would never trust Horm for his slimy, blatant manipulation of Leia, or forget Mon's betrayal in going along with it and encouraging her to marry a prince she didn't love for political gain), he was glad (and relieved) that Carlist was included, and, of course, he was especially happy that Chewie and Luke were coming as well. Elaborate, high-profile events like this still made him uncomfortable, and this would be a non-stop, roughly month-long visit with many social gatherings, both large and small. Usually Leia steered him around a packed room full of very important strangers and made small talk while he stood there with a drink in one hand and a bland smile on his face as he pretended to listen. It really didn't bother him _that_ much, for he was proud to accompany her, and he admired Leia for her people skills (something he never quite mastered), but it would be nice to have a small circle of friends around to talk to and cut up with, especially considering the circumstances. Just because he was at peace with the situation (he'd meant that), didn't mean that he and Isolder were exactly BFFs – he had, after all, tried to steal his girl (to fulfill his princely duty and please his mother, for kriff's sake!) And besides, it gave him an endless amount of pleasure to poke fun at His Royal Hair-ness, and who better to share that with than Chewie and Luke?

Shortly after receiving the invitation, Leia came home from work one evening to find the living room littered with pizza boxes, bags of chips, and beer bottles, and her husband and their best friend howling with laughter on the couch, watching her brother reenact Isolder's slow-motion emergence from the pool. She looked on from the doorway as he pushed himself up on the edge of the coffee table, shook imaginary water droplets from his hair, dramatically opened his eyes and flashed an exaggerated, dazzling smile.

Leia snickered softly, shaking her own head with affectionate dismay, and perched on the edge of the couch next to her husband. "Are you three going to do this all the way to Hapes?"

Han wiped his eyes. "Hey, sweetheart. You're home early. Nah, we were watching the smashball match," he explained, his voice cracking with residual laughter as he gestured toward the big holovision above the mantel. "We, uh, kinda made a game of it. See, every time one of the players gets fouled, one of us, uh, well, we –"

"It's the Isolder Super Smile Challenge," Luke finished for him around a mouthful of bacon flavored chips. He sat on the floor leaning against the edge of the coffee table. Leia groaned inwardly, _Oh, Luke, if that coffee table could talk . . . you would not be touching it right now._ A fleeting image of her brother shoving himself from the table, shrieking like a girl and wiping his hands on his pants flittered through her mind. Of course, she personally had scrubbed it down at the end of that lovely weekend she and Han had camped out in the living room, but it seemed every time she came into the room that day, Threepio was once again wiping the table down with a spray bottle of cleaner and a dust rag, despite having erased his memory, but that may just have been her imagination.

Chewie purred gleefully while Han handed her a slice of pizza and a bottle of beer along with a sheepish grin and shrug.

Leia took a long sip of ice cold beer. "You mean from the holovid invitation? Do I have to hide that from you again?" This was not the first time she had come home to find the three of them doubled over in hysterics over that thing. And, yes, Chewie had apologized for spilling his drink on their couch, but that hadn't stopped her from turning over the cushion for good measure, just in case it wasn't the drink. She knew what that invitation could do to you, especially when Han got you going.

"You know I'll find it, Leia, but yeah," Han replied, draping an arm around her shoulders, "and you can make stuff up too; it doesn't have to be just from the 'vid."

"Like what?" She kicked off her faux snavel-skinned pumps and started in on the pizza, pleased that Han had remembered to omit mushdomes and had doubled down on the cheese.

"You know, sweetheart, think about where else Prince Fabulous might flash that smile – then you act it out, like Luke there with the table." He gave her a private smile, nudged his chin toward the coffee table and winked.

Twelve minutes later, after the Dark Knights had fouled the Rabble Rousers, Leia found herself shrieking laughter and spilling her own drink on the couch as she watched a 200 year old Wookiee pantomime taking a slow, rather sensuous shower with his back to them, carefully soaping his armpits, then throwing a toothy grin over his hairy shoulder. She was afraid that if this kept up, she'd have to turn the couch cushion over again before the night was through. And not from a spilled drink, either.

*******************************1234

As per usual, Threkin Horm volunteered to head the committee to organize the trip, just as he had headed Han and Leia's Wedding Committee, planning every moment and overseeing every detail. He called a special mandatory meeting of everyone involved and went through the entire month-(or so)-long itinerary: Once they reached Hapes, the entire delegation would be staying in the capitol city of Heraclea on the palatial grounds in the hamlet behind the palace proper, along with guests from other planets and delegations. There was to be a cocktail party to welcome them, a semi-formal gala to introduce the Royal couple, a ladies' tea and a gentlemen's archery party, a week at the famous Topaz Islands which included swimming, sailing and a regatta, a few days at the Stables for riding, polo matches, horse races, and an informal dinner, a tour of the consortium in a space yacht, day trips to the ancient ruins of Atherenia and the vineyards in the Hill Country, assorted balls and cotillions to celebrate the rich Hapan heritage, a bridal shower for the ladies and a groom's day for the men (Han could only guess what that meant), a weekend of shopping and fun in the City of the Rainbows, evening shows and plays and concerts in Heraclea, as well as the main event of the Royal Wedding, the reception, and a three day after-party celebration festival in the capitol and palace which included a parade and fireworks, and a Honeymoon Ball a few days before departure. In response to the packed agenda, a Clothing Committee was formed, and the government's Special Events Budget procured funds to be used for a new wardrobe befitting each member of the group. Famous designers and fashion consultants were brought in to evaluate popular styles of various worlds and create appropriate clothing for each event, much to the delight of most everyone, except, of course, for one grumpy Corellian.

"Come on, sweetheart," Leia coaxed, "They're just going to take some measurements. And it won't hurt you to take a look at the designs. Besides, you look so handsome in tailored clothes. You know you do." They were in her office at the Senate building that morning waiting for Han's appointment with the Wardrobe Coordinator, Madame Zane and Horm himself. Leia sat behind her smooth, white desk and tapped a small pile of flimsies into an even line before stapling them together.

Han reclined on one of the couches in the conversation area before her desk and frowned at her. "Flattery won't work, Princess. I don't see why I can't wear my own clothes to this thing." He couldn't wait for this ordeal to be over and was looking forward to his lunch meeting with Carlist afterward. He and Chewie were leaving tomorrow on their second mission and he was anxious to finalize a few last minute details.

As soon as she opened her mouth to explain, he cut her off, "I don't mean these." He gestured down at his signature blood stripes, white shirt and vest combination. "I mean my dress clothes. You know, the ones you make me wear to all those ceremonies and state dinners and stuff." He had about a half dozen suits of Leia-approved formal attire that he rotated per event.

Leia sighed, got up with her data pad in hand, and made her way over to him. "Honey," she said gently, dropping down beside him and tucking a leg underneath her, "we're going to be there a little more than a month on a diplomatic mission. There are going to be lots of events and parties and galas – not just the actual wedding to attend, so we're going to need new clothes to look the part of representing the New Republic. I know how you feel about this kind of stuff." Getting Han to try on clothes was like pulling teeth. _And that's an understatement_ , she thought to herself as she typed a reply to a text from Senator Brant about the Roche meeting. For their own wedding (also sanctioned by the Public Events department of the government,) he had allowed the designer to take measurements, and from there, Leia hadn't witnessed such grumbling, eye-rolling, and petulant frowns since she'd been in grade school with the daughters of Alderaan's fellow noble families, and a term paper had been assigned over the holidays. In the end, after bribing him with some thrilling promises for later that evening in exchange for his cooperation, they'd decided on a simple suit in dark gray, designed after his general's uniform, which he couldn't wear because of his resignation (but Leia had always found him extremely attractive in it.)

After a few moments of back and forth texts from various coworkers, Leia became aware of Han's silence. She looked up to find him staring intently at her, wearing a sly, crooked grin, making her blush. "Say, do you still have that sheer peekaboo red nightie with the string panties?"

"I might," she answered with feigned innocence, "And if you can get through this presentation with Horm and Madame Zane, I just may wear it for you tonight."

"Hmm," he contemplated, stroked his chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider.

She bit her lip, thinking. "Okay, look, your own formal wear will be fine for some of the events, and you can bring your bloodstripes, of course, but you're going to need some new things, too. We're going to attend all kinds of parties, and there's a sailing regatta and a beach, a polo match, and all sorts of things to do and places to go." She smiled beatifically. "I know new clothes aren't your favorite thing, my love, but I'm going to need some of your clothing to compliment my new outfits. Besides, you said you wanted to show me off, didn't you?"

Han quirked his lips and narrowed his eyes suspiciously before he answered. He knew his wife well enough to recognize the reasonable tone of voice she used when dealing with difficult coworkers and politicians. Or in his case, husbands. "Yes," he answered warily.

She batted her big brown eyes coyly at him. "Well, I want to show you off, too, you know. Not that you don't look perfectly dashing in your old things, but we're going to be on display. The holorazzi will be everywhere, especially in light of Isolder's failed proposal." She colored a bit, silently chastising herself yet again for it. "This isn't Coruscant we're talking about, it's Hapes and they're going to scrutinize us. I love you and I'm proud that you're my husband no matter what you wear, but they're going to be on his side, you know? And it's not just about us – it's for the New Republic, which they joined. I just want us to look our best, is that so wrong?"

His expression softened. "No, sweetheart, it's not." As the crown princess of Alderaan, he knew she understood the holorazzi much better than he did, having lived with it as a constant her whole life. And he really hadn't had to deal with those leaches until the whole Hapan debacle when the media were suddenly everywhere, reporting around the clock on the proposal, hoping for sightings of the prince, snapping photos of when Isolder had asked Leia to dance at a reception, speculating about Han and Leia's relationship, at the news conference the day she'd announced she'd be visiting Hapes (and he'd, uh, taken her to Dathomir instead.) And when they'd come back and announced their engagement, it had been the biggest news story around the galaxy, maybe even the whole solar system for months. After their wedding day, it had finally died down to normal, much to Han's relief. But Leia was still in the public eye. "Fine," he repeated with a gentle smile, which she returned.

Some twenty minutes later, after Madame Zane's assistant had taken Han's measurements in Leia's office (Han, instead of grumbling, settled for a resigned sort of pained expression Leia knew and loved well), Horm arrived to escort them down the corridor to the vacant office he'd prepared for clothing consultations and showings _. The man does like weddings_ , Leia mused as she and Han followed his repulsor chair. The room had been cleared of office furniture and had been set up as a mini runway complete with a small stage, a curtained partition, and a scattering of chairs at the end of the runway.

"What the hell?" Han hissed at her bewilderedly as they took their seats. Horm zipped off behind the curtain to start the show as an R2 unit served them a customary glass of champagne.

Leia shrugged sheepishly and sipped her drink. She'd had her fittings and showings a couple of weeks before and hadn't wanted to tell him this part, figuring there was no reason to make him any crabbier about it. Han took a big gulp and eyed her accusingly over the rim of his glass.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and the voice of Madame Zane boomed, "Welcome, Ambassador Organa-Solo and Captain Solo. We are pleased to present a showing today of both suitable and fashionable men's attire throughout the galaxy, envisioned by our chosen designers, exclusively for Captain Solo to wear for the upcoming Royal Wedding Tour of Hapes. Threkin?"

Music, heavy with bass, began to pulse throughout the room as the lights on the stage and runway started to flash.

For a split-second, Han was too stunned to react, sure that Horm himself was going to hover down the runway, modeling the clothing line himself, until he realized Horm was working the music and lights. Then the curtain parted, and a parade of male models flounced down the catwalk, each introduced by Madame Zane, who described in detail the designer, the inspiration, and the event at which the article would be worn. Han expected the waistcoats and tails, the breeches that stopped at the knee complete with stockings, the ascots and gold braided cummerbunds – stuff he'd seen in holovids, so he wasn't too alarmed when the first few models strode toward him dressed as such (not that he would be wearing that, of course.) The powdered wigs didn't even faze him. But then it got weird fast. He watched in horrified fascination as the clothes became even more . . . fanciful and outlandish. The men sported clothing in a rainbow of colors and gems, some with feathered boas around their necks and adornments in their hair, some in garish robes trimmed with fringe or feathers or bells or tinsel, some in actual see-through plastic suits, and one wore a monocle. Next to him, Leia winced. She had seen less satin on her old HeeBeeGeeBees disco album covers, and the shoes the men wore ranged from woven tapestry boots, shoes with thick, three inch heels, and men's formal sandals. And the outfits were only part of the fashion: some of the models wore make up – lipsticks in blue, black, silver or green (as if that made it masculine), fake eyelashes in a variety of colors, rouge, and finely shaped eyebrows.

The casual wear portion of the showing could best be described as 'figure skater chic' with the models wearing a variety of skin-tight stretch pants in many different fabrics, pleated newsboy pants which buttoned at the knee, oversized silk trousers, and culottes paired with off-the-shoulder tank tops, cropped tops, puffy shirts, or simple, short open robes with no shirts. The men marched by in shorts paired with lederhosen, leather shorts, silk shorts, a man-skirt, spandex short-shorts, some with see-through shirts, and some with necklines low enough to show off the nipples.

 _Now I've seen everything,_ Leia thought. But she hadn't. No, she definitely hadn't seen everything.

Until the swimsuit promenade began.

Then.

Then she saw everything.

Seven men, dressed in varying degrees of undress, each a little more skimpy and outrageous than the next, stood shoulder to shoulder while Horm changed the music. She was half-afraid they were going to start stripping like in that Magic Spike movie she'd seen with Marva when Han was off fighting Zsinj. But then they came forward one by one, pivoting in front of the Solos, then sauntering back through the curtain. There was a gauzy, filmy colorful wrap tied low on a bare hip, sparkly, sequined briefs, a mono-kini, and decals of geometric shapes were placed on side flanks, lower backs, and biceps. And something that looked like regular-styled wet-suit trunks, but in fact had a special 'sock' in the front to hold . . . it . . . separately in an inside-out pocket, because, apparently, people wanted to know it wasn't all mushed up and hidden in there and had a special place all its own. And she could swear one of the suits was actually just body painting. Face burning, Leia averted her eyes to find Han, open-mouthed with shock. By the time the final model came out to finish the presentation, wearing a special creation made by Madame Zane herself for the traditional 'show stopper' piece - an all-white fur suit complete with a matching top hat and muff, Leia sensed that Han's rather thin patience had come to an end (red peek-a-boo nightie or not.)

When the lights came on, Leia quickly got to her feet, and, keeping one hand on Han's shoulder, she thanked Horm and Madame Zane and told them they'd review the designs again on the computer and get back to them by the end of the week. After they left, she sat back down. Han slowly turned his head, gave her a flat stare and raised an eyebrow.

"Well," she squirmed, "what, um, did you think?" Her voice sounded small and she couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"What did I think?" Han smirked in an incredulous tone, "Where do I begin? Aside from the plastic pants and platform shoes, let's see, that purple suit with the big brown bow tie and cane was interesting. It looked like I should invite children on a tour of my chocolate factory. And who knew lederhosen was all the rage on Hapes? I figured there'd be sequins and sparkle, but I did not figure there'd be short pants and knee socks. Maybe after the wedding you can drop me off for my first day of school. You would lose all respect for me as a man if I wore that. Hells, I think I lost some respect for myself just looking at it. I don't even know what to say about that outfit with the suspenders. I don't . . . I can't . . . he was topless with gold lame hotpants and suspenders! Do they expect me to enter a roller boogie contest to save the community rink? Is that it? Who wears short-shorts, Leia? Not me! What year is it out there anyway? And the colors! It was like watching a rainbow ride a unicorn at Studio 2054! And that last one, what would you call that? Pimp-couture? It had a muff for kriff's sake! What the hell would I do with a muff?"

"They weren't all that bad," she mumbled lamely, bracing herself.

"I saw. A man's. Ass," Han deadpanned, his eyes boring into her as he enunciated every word in a low, slow monotone. "That tiny, silver bathing suit was bad enough from the front, I mean, I don't know how he packed it all in there! And his thighs! Good gods, he had . . . all . . . these . . . thighs! I knew it wasn't going to be good when he turned around - that thong just . . . it just went right up _in_ there! And we saw his whole ass!" He paused to let that sink in again. "His whole ass, Leia!" he whispered fiercely, still intently holding her gaze.

"Okay, okay, honey," she chanted, patting his knee, "I got it. You can stop saying 'ass' now. And, just for the record, that's actually part of the reason you like it when I wear those little red string panties, isn't it?"

Han pressed his lips together and frowned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't ruin that for me. And I like it because it's _your_ ass, not some oiled-up, strange, naked guy with plucked eyebrows modeling a swimsuit five feet in front of us. Just what the hell was that?!" he demanded, gesturing at the catwalk and room in general. "What would make Madame Zelda think I'd wear any of that? If that's what the men wear on Hapes, then what are _you_ wearing, for kriff's sake?!"

"Well, you do have a great ass," she quipped, hoping for a chuckle, but getting a sour eye instead. "All right, first of all, it's Madame Zane, and second, it's, uh, Hapan Couture, I guess. The general public dresses a bit less . . . sparkly. As ambassador, I had to do a lot of research before I went to ask if they'd join the Alliance, and it turns out that Hapes is very . . . colorful," Leia said carefully. Han dropped an eyebrow and smirked. She sighed, "You saw the invitation. It's a very artsy, over-the-top, gaudy culture and they have a vibrant, very avant-garde sense of fashion. In fact, it's one of their biggest industries and contributions to the galaxy. They're known for their beauty-and-wellness spas, and plastic surgery is a huge business, too. So the people like to put themselves on display."

"No!" Han exclaimed with feigned shock.

"Yes!" Leia couldn't resist giggling. "And one way is to wear stuff like spangled thong micro bikini briefs. Another is to visit one of their many nude beaches."

Han snorted. "The last thing I want is to see Horm hovering around naked in that repulsor chair on a nude beach."

Leia's laughter joined his, and she sensed his grouchiness dissipating. Finally, she looked up at him. "Okay, look, my show had its share of weird outfits; one model came out with a birdcage around her head. And there were real birds inside! But there were lots of lovely, normal things I chose instead, so you can relax. And of course I agree that you're not going to wear any of what we just saw. And, yes, I would lose respect for you as a man if you wore that short pants and knee socks number. Or the lederhosen. Or that furry muff outfit. Or, well, any of it, so, since you were _mostly_ a good sport about all this today, I will not only wear the red nightie later tonight, I will also talk to Madame Zane. I'll dig up the designs for the suit you wore at our wedding and we'll go from there. And I know your color palate, too, flyboy – black, white, gray, brown, blue, green, and khaki."

"Okay. Good," he finally said, getting up and holding out his hand to her. He could see he'd gotten his point across and he trusted his wife to not let him run around Hapes looking like one of the Village Folks. He offered her a crooked smile. "Come on, sweetheart, I'll walk you back to class."

She smiled back and let him take her hand and pull her up.

As they made their way back to her office, he began to chuckle.

"What?" Leia asked, her smile broadening. The show had actually been quite funny, she had to admit.

"I was just thinking about Isolder's ballet outfit. I've been laughing about it for weeks. Turns out it's actually the most normal thing I've seen all day. Kinda makes me feel bad for him."

"Well, you just say the word and I can have Madame Zane whip one up just like it. Maybe pair it with a nice muff? And are you sure you don't want me to order that silver bathing suit, just to wear on special occasions for me, flyboy?" Leia teased.

Han stopped walking, gently tugging her to a halt, and looked down at her as she tried to keep a straight face. His lip twitched. "You like that? You find that sexy? Like this?" He posed coquettishly, half-turning to subtly present his backside, an innocent expression on his face and a naughty finger pressed against his pursed lips.

"Stop!" she giggled in an urgent whisper,leaning into him and lightly pulling at his arm to get him to stop. "Someone might see!" Her eyes jumped from door to door, sure one of her colleagues might suddenly pop out and see them, maybe even that Mr. Wyler, or goddess-forbid, Mon.

He snickered, put a reassuring arm around her shoulders and they resumed their walk. "Alright, alright. Looks like Carlist and I have something more to talk about at lunch today. And when's Luke get back? He didn't already have his showing, did he?"

"No, no," Leia answered, "he's using my office this afternoon while I'm at my 2 o'clock Roche meeting, and . . ." They both slowed to a halt and their eyes met. A look of understanding passed between them.

Simultaneously, they said, "I'll cancel my meeting," and "You'd better go with him." Because Luke may have been many things – brave, kind, loyal, sweet, Jedi Master, war hero who defeated the Dark Side and took on a Sith Lord, but he could still be that naïve farmboy, too willing to please and easily swayed by the more normal, non-Force-y aspects of life, such as his Rogue Squadron friends, late night infomercials (he owned a Roombot vacuum which irritated Artoo to no end, a set of Kitchen Ninja knives and a Romco sandwich press, and both they and Chewie had received Cozie blankets for Winter Fete), and beautiful women, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Horm or Madame Zane could talk him into a metal-stud covered, nipple-baring leather tank or a formal suit made of orange dustbunnies and twinkle lights.

They were still giggling when they rounded the corner to Leia's outer office space where Carlist Reeiken was waiting for them at Marva's desk. He was just plucking a lemon square off of Marva's offered plate full of baked goods when they appeared.

"Han, Leia," he greeted them warmly. "Looks like your meeting with Threkin and Madame Zane went well. Mine's tomorrow." He loved seeing the princess and the captain so happy together, not only as a dig at Mon and Horm, but because no matter what anyone thought of Han's upbringing (or lack thereof) and his past, he knew that Bail Organa would have wanted nothing less for his daughter, and would have been proud to call Han 'son.' Besides, seeing a couple so happy and in love reminded him of his own marriage and all those wonderful memories with wife.

Han smirked. "Yeah, well, we'll talk about that over lunch."

"Excellent," Carlist smiled genially. "Before we go, I wanted to let you know I've invited Wedge Antilles to Hapes with us as my 'one guest', since I have no assistant and no one else to bring with me. He just got back from a rather long tour and I thought he'd enjoy a little time off, and thought maybe you and Luke would like someone else around who . . . isn't . . . Threkin Horm."

Han chuckled around his lemon square, and Leia noted how the plate shook ever-so-slightly in Marva's hand as she chose the small cake in the middle (from here on out she had to watch what she ate, as her figure would soon be on display for all of the galaxy to see.)

"Oh, good!" Leia exclaimed, genuinely pleased, "I'll tell Luke this afternoon."

"Well, Mon's asked him to come to Luke's showing today since they're roughly the same age and size and Madame Zane won't have time for another individual fashion analysis."

"Even better," Leia smiled, shooting Han a secret look as he and Carlist shuffled over to the elevator.

As they entered the lift, Carlist bid the two ladies a wonderful day while Han grinned wickedly at his wife. "See you tonight, Red," he called out with a wink just as the doors slid shut.

**********************************12345

"Han? Sweetheart, let's go! The car will be here in five minutes!" Leia called to him from the living room. It was five minutes to 6 am, and she wanted to make sure they hadn't missed anything for the movers while they were gone.

"In a minute!" he called back from their bedroom 'fresher.

Leia rolled her eyes and sighed. Usually it was she who kept him waiting, but this time, on the morning of their departure to Hapes, he was the one dawdling. She'd gotten up at four to take her shower and had woken him at four-thirty to do the same while she dried her hair, put on make-up, and dressed in the one outfit she'd set aside for today, making sure to place her freshly valeted nightgown in the packing box in their room. Meanwhile, Han had hit the snooze button on his chrono three times, and groaned elaborately at her when she'd finally prodded him out of bed at five, ripping the covers off of him and throwing them across the room. He'd glared at her, bleary eyed and sulky, as he'd stumbled into the bathroom with her, still half-asleep.

"Here," she'd said gently, but firmly, pushing her paper cup of kaffe at him on the counter amidst her cosmetics. "Drink this." He'd sipped silently and petulantly, while she'd adjusted the water spray for his shower and set out his toothbrush and shaving kit to save time.

Now in the dim light of the living room, Leia shook her head. She wasn't angry at him, and couldn't very well blame him for sulking. Three weeks ago, everything was going according to plan, and then . . . all hell had broken loose. Well, maybe just a little.

Han had planned on taking **The** **Millennium Falcon** to Hapes. He didn't relish spending a lot of time around Horm or Mon if he didn't have to, and he liked having the freedom to explore the consortium on his own if he wanted (or with Leia, if she wished), and Leia happily agreed. But the Falcon was too small for such a long journey to the outer reaches of the galaxy, so he'd gotten permission to dock the Falcon to the ship transporting the New Republic's delegation - the deep space luxury cruiser, **The** **Sweet Liberty**. He'd reasoned that they could enjoy all the amenities **The** **Sweet Liberty** had to offer, like the gourmet kitchens and dining rooms, the holo theatre, the games room, the gym, the library, the music suite, and so forth, and they could fraternize with their fellow travelers when and if they felt like it, while retreating to the Falcon to sleep or for some privacy, a Sabaac game with the guys, and to simply relax with no fear of running into certain people who might get on their (mostly his) nerves during the weeks-long flight. It was such a perfect plan, what could go wrong?

Hah! Leia thought, scanning the room again, checking the thermostat, and pulling her 'com out of her purse. Three weeks ago, she and Threepio were wrapping wedding gifts for Isolder and Teneniel, when Han and Chewie had burst through the door, shouting, growling, and pointing at each other.

 _"_ _Hey, hey, what's going on?!" she demanded, standing up and moving closer to the arguing pair._

 _"_ _This – this furball broke the Falcon!" Han snapped, glaring at his friend._

 _[I did not, you big baby!] Chewie barked back._

 _"_ _What happened?!" Leia shouted over them._

 _Han angrily shook his head, breaking eye contact with the Wookiee and flapped his hand at him. "Two of my engines are shot! Burnt up! We went to deliver some parts on the other side of the planet, when BOOM! They're toast!"_

 _Chewie began to growl again, but Leia stopped him._

 _"_ _But you two are okay," she reasoned in a low voice, trying to calm them both down, catching Chewie's eyes. Of the two, he was the more level-headed._

 _"_ _Yeah, sure, we're great!" Han continued to storm. "We still had two engines!"_

 _[We landed safely, Little Princess] Chewie rumbled, [and checked everything out. The engines can't be repaired, so we ordered two 'new' used engines, and - ]_

 _"_ _And they won't be here for THREE MONTHS!" Han bellowed, folding his arms, brows knit, and fuming._

 _"_ _Oh," Leia said, realization setting in. Three months. They'd almost be back from Hapes by then._

 _"_ _And if I hadn't been talked into letting him take my ship to Kashyyyk, the Falcon – "_

 _[I've been back for weeks! We've flown the ship back and forth everywhere since then! The Falcon is old! She would have fallen apart in Hapes, right in front of the prince who tried to steal your woman!]_

 _Han was livid, the color draining from his face. "Why you - !"_

 _"_ _Han! Wait!" Leia shouted over him, stopping him before he said something he might regret. He stared wild-eyed at his so-called friend over her head. "Chewie, why don't you wash up while Threepio checks on dinner? I need to talk with my husband." Her voice was quieter, but commanding. Chewie snarled softly, then stalked off down the hallway to the guest room and Threepio toddled into the kitchen, murmuring, "Oh, dear, oh, dear."_

 _"_ _Honey?" she tried, but Han wouldn't look at her, just stood there with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "I know you're upset, but you know Chewie's right."_

 _He glared at her now._

 _She continued, "_ _Maybe if he hadn't flown the ship to Kashyyyk, it would have broken down in Hapes, and you would have hated that even more, wouldn't you?"_

 _"_ _Maybe she wouldn't have broken down at all, if Chewie knew how to fly!" He hurled the remark down the hallway._

 _"_ _Han," Leia warned. "Look, I know you're upset, but don't take it out on Chewie. Of course he knows how to fly. He knows that ship and loves her almost as much as he loves you."_

 _"_ _Aw, now don't start that mushy stuff," Han protested, flopping down on the couch._

 _"_ _Fine. Why don't we just rent another ship to take to Hapes then?" She sat in front of him on the coffee table._

 _"_ _I don't want another ship," he pouted through clenched teeth, "I want the Falcon."_

 _"_ _I know," Leia soothed, tentatively putting a hand on each of his knees. "That's the problem. You know it's not Chewie's fault: You're upset that your girl's sick. She's special to you, she's a part of you. And I think you wanted to show her off, too, didn't you?"_

 _Han looked at her now, quirking his mouth to one side as he did when he knew she was right and he wasn't quite done being mad._

 _"_ _I was going to run a full check on her this weekend to make sure she was tip-top."_

 _Leia nodded. "I know. Nobody's as careful about their ships as you are." She gave him a little smile._

 _He sighed, letting the last of his frustration go. "Maybe it was a good thing it happened here, now. And it's not Isolder's reaction I would mind; it's Horm's." He shook his head and sneered at the thought. "How am I going to take him day after day, cooped up on that ship?"_

 _"It's an enormous ship, but . . ._ _when he gets on your nerves, I'll . . . have to distract you," Leia suggested, dropping her eyes._

 _"_ _Distract me? You mean sexy stuff? Like your red nightie?" He lifted an intrigued eyebrow._

 _She shrugged, smiling. "Well, that certainly works for me. Whatever you want. Well, almost whatever you want. But it can be other stuff, too, like a back rub, or a holovid, or a game of Four Corners. Use your imagination."_

 _He shook his head slowly. "Oh, I am."_

 _"_ _Good. You okay now?" Leia asked, squeezing his knees gently._

 _He nodded, meeting her eyes and giving her a grudging half-smile, the best he could manage._

 _[Can I come out now, cub? I have nothing else left to wash, unless you want me to take a shower,] Chewie howled from down the hallway._

 _Han and Leia chuckled at each other. "Yes," he called back, "my temper tantrum's over. Sorry, pal."_

 _[Me, too, cub.]_

 _And all was right with the world._

 _Then Threepio announced that dinner was ready and when they were seated, Han apologized again and Chewie said he was sorry for bringing up the prince and added, [And for the record, the Falcon's not old; she's a classic.] And the three of them had laughed and toasted to that._

She smiled at the memory and checked the chrono again. Five minutes! (She'd lied before; it had really been ten minutes to six, but she'd wanted Han to hurry.)

"Han!" she called out again.

"Okay!"

Exasperated, Leia paced, pulling her purse over her shoulder and eyeing the make-up case by the front door which held her toiletries from that morning. Thankfully, Threepio had been loaded onto the ship the day before, along with their luggage and wardrobes, as well as the gifts. It was customary for wedding guests to bring something from their home planet or region, so Han had chosen a variety of Corellian spirits, whiskies, and rums, in beautiful, decorative bottles. Capitalizing on the theme, Luke had added sets of fine, cut glassware from the sand planet of Tatooine, and Chewie had ordered a hand-crafted, wooden case from Kashyyyk to hold the liquors, glasses, and carafes. It was a beautiful collection, but Leia had decided on a different kind of gift from Alderaan. Upon her visit last year, Hapes had reminded her of those old-fashioned fairy tales she'd been read as a child, from thick, colorful picture books, where knights slayed dragons, damsels were lost in the woods, and witches tricked innocent princesses once upon a time. She'd mentioned this to Han and Isolder during that strange, uncomfortable dinner she'd hosted the day of the proposal - the very day Han had returned from his exhausting, soul-shattering, five month battle with Zsinj (oh, how she wished she could take that back!) She hadn't been wrong: Hapes was a fairy tale world, pretty on the surface, but dark and dangerous underneath. _There's even a wicked queen!_ she thought, smiling to herself. So she'd purchased a large, very old, thick, leather-bound book of fairy tales, complete with gold-edged pages and illustrations, from an antiques dealer that Han knew. Technically, it wasn't from her homeworld, but she remembered it from her childhood on Alderaan, so she figured it counted close enough, and she hoped they liked it. _And that and everything else is waiting in our stateroom, that is, if Han ever decides to come out of the bathroom!_ She threw an irritated face over at the hallway, willing him to appear.

 _'_ _Sorry, everyone, we missed departure because my husband was moping and I couldn't get him out of the 'fresher_ ,' she imagined messaging Mon, just as her 'com lit up with a text that their car had arrived in the parking garage. _Be right down,_ she answered _._

Leia opened her mouth to shout for Han one more time, giving him one more chance before she stalked into the bathroom and physically removed him, when he suddenly jostled past her to the front door.

"Hey, sweetheart, ready to go?" He stuffed his shaving kit (with toothbrush) into her make-up case and picked it up. "Well, come on, we'll be late," he shooed her, opening the door and gesturing for her to hurry.

"Unbelievable," she mumbled, following him out.

Once in the lift, Han pressed the button for the parking garage, then turned to his wife who was staring at him with a dark, incredulous look.

"What?"

"Nothing. My voice is hoarse from shouting for you," she replied dryly.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Hair and makeup took me forever," he joked.

She nudged him with her elbow, grinning down at her coat. It was too early in the morning, and he was too adorable to be cross with.

They were on the 27th floor, leaving Han time to lean back on the elevator wall and peer down at his wife. "So, I've been thinking. We need a code word."

Leia looked up at him curiously. "A code word?"

"Yeah. You said that if people got on my nerves, you'd only be too willing to 'distract' me with sexual favors and carnal indiscretions."

"This is what you were doing in the 'fresher all this time? Thinking about this?" Why was she not surprised? He never ceased to amaze or amuse her. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"Among other things, yes," he gave her a slow, naughty grin. "Now, if, let's say, Horm says something to annoy me, and I start mouthing off – you know I will, you can't very well just grab my hand and announce to everyone that we're going back to our room to 'do it.' Or screw. Or hump. Or fuck. Or have sex, or whatever we want to call it. So, we need a code word."

Leia shook her head at the amount of effort and logic he'd put into this. _If only his contact mission reports were as well prepared._ "Well," she gave a small laugh, "Um, we could say I need you to help me fix my datapad or my 'com, or something like that."

Han nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on his lips. "That could work. I like it. And I am good at fixing things."

"Yes, you are," she said slyly, but truthfully, then added, "and you don't have to 'fix' my things just when people get on your nerves, you know; we can 'distract' each other anytime we want."

Han flashed that crooked grin of his and took her hand. "Why, Highnessness, you're making me blush."

She smiled back just as the doors slid open to reveal the waiting hover car at the curb.

"Here we are," she said, squeezing his hand.

He nodded and they made their way to the car. "Let's go to Hapes."


End file.
